


Thursdays

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ficlet, Heterosexual Sex, Love/Hate, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-25
Updated: 2008-11-25
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: An unexpected turn of events causes Harry to contemplate his relationship with Pansy Parkinson.





	Thursdays

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Written for the prompt of "Baby, it's cold outside" for a Harry/Pansy Christmas Challenge on Live Journal.

"Fuck, Pansy." Harry nipped her neck and pushed her deeper into the mattress. He struggled with the buttons of her blouse, finally settling for grabbing the bottom and ripping upwards sending buttons skittering across the floor.

"Honestly, do you even know how to use your wand? That lost its appeal about three shirts ago. At this point, it's just annoying, Potter."

"Shut your gob, Parkinson." Harry shoved her bra up over her tits and squeezed… hard.

Fisting her hands in his hair, Pansy pulled his lips down hard against hers. Their noses bumped, but neither paid it any mind. Her breaths were coming hard and fast.

Pansy grabbed her wand from the bedside table and removed the rest of their clothing, sending it sailing into a heap in the corner. "See, that's how it's done, Potter."

Harry entered her hard and fast, his pace already frenzied. "I said shut your gob. You're ruining it."

"Oh, like I had any chance of doing that with you in the room." She snorted.

Harry fisted his hand in her hair and brought his lips down hard upon hers, pushing his tongue past her lips. She was gasping when he broke their kiss. "Seems the only way to shut you up."

He expected a harsh retort. It was always this way between them. Perhaps he was a masochist. This was unhealthy and he knew it… and needed it… and wanted it… constantly. He drove into her, increasing his pace with every thrust. "Fuck, Pansy. Gonna—"

His words were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door and Pansy shoving him away.  
"Shite," she whispered. "I forgot my parents were coming by to take me out for Christmas dinner."

"It's okay." Harry said. He thought the grin he was wearing must have looked ridiculous. "We'll get dressed _quickly_ ," he said gathering up his clothes, "and then I can meet your parents and—"

She pulled on her dressing gown and shoved him toward the window. "You bloody well will not be meeting my parents. _I_ happen to be their only child and do you know how my parents would react seeing me with the boy hero of the war?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I get that all the time. It doesn't mean I'm any better than anyone else. I just—"

"My daddy would be heartbroken to see how I've lowered my standards."

"Now Pansy, I—What?!" Well, he had _not_ expected that!

There was a call from behind the door to her flat. "Pansy?" Her father's voice was deep.

"Coming Daddy," she called back in a voice so sweet that Harry had to look twice to see if it was really Pansy talking.

"Fine," he whispered. "I'll just Apparate back to my own flat and—"

"Are you really that moronic?" she asked, knocking on his forehead. "Then my parents will hear the pop and know I was with someone in here. You can't do that. Here," she said, brushing aside the curtain. "Go out the window."

"You're on the third floor! And, it's snowing."

"Shh! Oh stop being such a baby. There's a tree there."

Pansy near shoved him out the window with his clothes heaped beneath his arm. It was good thing he didn't weigh all that much as he was forced to grab onto the tree and work himself into a spot where the risk of falling was minimal. A bigger man would most likely not have made the leap successfully.

Sitting in a tree, wearing only his pants in the dark, snowy cold, looking down on the wand that he dropped in his dive for said tree gave Harry a good deal of time to think about the places his life might have gone wrong. The Christmas decorations on Pansy's neighbors' doors had seemed festive when he arrived. Now, they seemed to mock his ignorance with every blink. Explaining to Mrs. Weasley why he was late for Christmas dinner at the Burrow would be a chore. The woman had a radar for a lie that was unmatched by any Harry had encountered, and telling her the truth was simply not an option.

In his attempts to put his trousers on, many feet up in the air, he was forced to contemplate the healthiness, or the lack thereof, of this relationship. Thursdays at Pansy's flat were spent hurling insults at one another while they fucked like animals. There was no basis for anything resembling a relationship.

It was wrong.

It was unhealthy.

And in case her parents planned to do the same to celebrate the New Year, he'd best make sure he was on time next Thursday.

Fin.


End file.
